


045 - Hospital Visits

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 05:17:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17461340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “Hello!! Would you be able to write a story where you get into an accident or something and Van visits you in hospital? You can interpret that however you like :p Thank you xxxx”





	045 - Hospital Visits

"Only after childbirth!” a nurse said too loudly and laughed to herself. “That’s how bad the pain is meant to be. I mean, childbirth is number one. Pushing a watermelon out. Hurts, you know? But this… honey… no wonder you were screaming like a banshee! Of course there are other things that might hurt more. Like, torture. Being tortured would probably be worse. Keep that in mind and it might help dull the pain until that morphine kicks in!” The morphine, she correctly asserted, had not yet kicked in. Her constant talking, the volume and the pitch… it was jarring at best and your migraine was getting worse. She finished recording your vitals. You hoped she would leave. “We had a young fella come in with the same thing once and he passed out from the pain. Don’t know how you’re managing. You must have been a warrior in another life!”

“She’s a warrior in this one too,” your mum said as she walked in the room. She opened the can of Coke Zero and handed it to you. You drank hard.

“Not sure if she should be drinking that,” the nurse said, her voice gaining some authority in its quieter version.

“Think if she’s pushing kidney stones out of her urethra she can do whatever she wants.” God, you loved your mum.

You were at work when the first wave of pain hit. At first you thought it was cramps, but within fifteen minutes you were on the ground screaming. Your manager helped you to the couch in her office, then called your mum. She called the emergency department ahead, and when you got there they were ready. They originally thought it was your appendix. When that was crossed out, they came to the conclusion that it was kidney stones.

The morphine was only a few minutes away from kicking in, and the Coke helped. Your mum got rid of the nurse and you could suffer in silence. You put some chapstick on, and struggled with your hair being stuck to your face. You had sweated more in the previous hour than the rest of your life combined. Your mum pulled your hair into a bun.

“You want me to call Van?” she asked. You shook your head furiously. You went to explain why, but things got fuzzy. Your body felt heavy but… good.

“Noooooooooooooooo Vannnnnnnn,” you whispered. Your mum laughed.

“Morphine’s workin’ then,

“Van,” you repeated.

“What about him?"

“Van McCann,"

“Yeah,"

“Ryan Evan McCann,"

“I can listen to you scream in pain, Y/N, but I won’t sit here and listen to you repeat your boyfriend’s name,”

“My boyfriend,”

“Yes. Very yours, I’d say. Jump. How high. The whole thing,”

“Where is he?” you asked and suddenly felt the distance between Van and you. You wanted to cry.

"I believe he is somewhere in the country on tour, last time you updated me. I think maybe we should call him."

You watched as your mum used your phone to call Van. Your fingers felt like lead, and you were too warm. You started to make small whining sounds. Your mum looked over and helped you drink icy water through a straw.

"Hi, Van-" she started. She didn't need to say it wasn't you on the phone, and he was already assuming something was wrong. "No. It's alright! She's fine. We are in the hospital though-" another pause and she was smiling and nodding at Van's probable panic, "Van, she's fine. She's got kidney stones, that's all,"

"That's all?!" you yell.

"She's been given morphine and I think she'd like to hear your voice," she told him and handed the phone over. She looked amused but you were far too high to know she was mocking you.

"Vaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn," you said, and didn't stop until he had to all but yell to get your attention.

"Babe!"

"What?"

"You alright?"

"Yessssssssss. Are you?"

"Kidney stones are, like, painful, right? But they're not serious?"

"I have to pee out a rock, Van. A rock has to come out of me. This is very serious," you emphasised the 'very' and your mum was trying to contain laughter. Van didn't contain his.

"Alright, but you're okay? I can come if you want?"

"I love you so much you know,"

"I know. I love you too. Do you need me to come?"

"We're gonna get married and buy a house and have, like, ten babies and they're gonna have heaps stupid but good names and maybe we can get a cat too," you imagined babies with Van and started to cry.

"Y/N? Are you crying?"

"No, you are,"

"Fuck. Alright. You're okay?"

"Do you want ten babies and a cat?" you asked and felt like he was avoiding the very important conversation.

"Yeah, babe. You know I do,"

"But you have a dog!"

"We can have a dog and a cat. Y/N. I need you to tell me you're okay and if you need me to come," you'd never heard him sound so grown up and you stopped crying and started laughing. Your hands were still heavy so you let the phone go. It sat on the pillow next to your head for a second before your mum picked it up. "Tell him I love him," you said, and closed your eyes.

"Van? She's fine. You don't need to come… … Yes. No, I think she's going to sleep now… … I will. I will. She's fine though. You really don't need to worry… … I will. She says she loves you too."

You passed out and slept dreamless.

…

"I don't want to be in here for a week, Mum," you complained. You were an adult and you were not dying and you didn't want to spend five days collecting urine in cups. Your lower back ached, which was the kidneys still inflamed. It hurt to pee and you knew you would suffer more at home, but you were sure it was what you wanted.

"Bad luck," and the conversation was over.

On the third day you were sitting up in bed at eleven in the morning. You had refused to eat the hospital breakfast. Nobody really cared, so it was really only you that was hurt by it. They made you drink water and tea constantly, but other than that you were really in the hospital for pain relief until the stones passed. You were all for talking about your body and its various functions, but even still, if one more person waved a sickly yellow-green container in front of you, you were going to scream.

There was a knock on the door, which was weird. Nobody knocks in hospitals. You looked over and watched Van walk through the door. It was like the entire room filled with sunshine and fresh air for the first time in days. In reality, it filled with a lot of colourful helium balloons, and the smell of real food. He let the balloons go, and they all settled on the roof, not tied to one central point. He put a few bags down and came straight to you. You didn't speak to each other, just hugged. His hand running up and down your spine was better than all the morphine. Probably not really, but you thought it nonetheless.

"Van,"

"Couldn't let you sit here sad all week, could I?" he explained. As he sorted through the bags you reached out and pulled one of the balloons to you, and tied the string to your wrist. "First, supplies," he said and put a small pile of your favourite snacks on the table. "Second, comfort." He'd brought the headband with the in-built headphones from home. You made a sound of pure joy and reached out for them. Then, he handed you the crocodile teddy you'd had for years. The artwork for The Ride was inspired by the teddy, and when he first showed you the album you cried. "Last, breakfast." He unpacked a wax box from the café just down the road from your place. Ricotta pancakes.

"Fuuuuuuuuck," you said and immediately started to eat. He watched you with a smile, and mixed one sugar into a hot chocolate and pushed it closer to you. Nothing had ever tasted better. When you finished he moved the little table away, and climbed onto the bed with you. You cuddled into his side.

"Thank you,"

"Easy, babe."

You told him about what it felt like, and how you'd have to have some tests done to make sure that the stones hadn't damaged anything. He told you about the shows he'd been performing. You fell asleep, still a little sleepy and foggy from the morphine. You could smell the sterile disinfected hospital sheets, but you could also smell Van and hear his heartbeat and feel his warmth, and you may not have thought you wanted him to come, but in that moment you realised you'd always need him that close.


End file.
